


Everlasting Sorrow

by RoofDog



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Character Death, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-29
Updated: 2018-05-29
Packaged: 2019-05-15 04:31:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14783631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoofDog/pseuds/RoofDog
Summary: A man mourns his family.





	Everlasting Sorrow

A pitiful man. Weeping without restraint and making quite the scene, that's what he was to onlookers. A man with a severe face. One whose stature alone could intimidate anyone looking for trouble. If not enough, the intensity of his glare would drive off those brave enough to approach. Yet now all of that crumbled. It wasn't important.

There he sat on a bench, head in hands with tears fully streaming. Pitiful, pathetic he chastised himself in the back of his mind. Even now, he held himself to an unattainable stoicism. Even after granting himself the release of crying. He felt a viscous flow of clear mucus trickle down from his nose. He let it fall, allowed it to saturate the hair lining his upper lip, then mingle with the tears already dampening his face before wiping it all away and soiling his sleeve. He sniffed hard, feeling pressure build in the front of his head. A sob choked its way out of his throat and he clenched his teeth. His face twisted into a painful grimace as his body heaved out more tears and shaky breaths.

What a confusing sight for those strangers around him. Something terrible must have happened to make a man such as this breakdown. Some stared, some went on with their business, others silently prayed for him. All of them refused to draw near to offer comfort. All except one.

“What's ailing you?” A hand was placed on his shoulder and he felt a weight beside him on the bench. He recomposed himself, to an extent. Focusing on his breathing he sat up slightly and looked at the stranger. Taking a moment more, he observed the stranger's features. A woman with golden hair, her glowing face wearing an expression of genuine concern. An angel, he was sure. Inhaling and exhaling deliberately, slowly, he spoke.

“My husband … and son … they …” It was a challenge to only speak. “They're gone,” his voice broke and another sob forced itself out.

“I'm so sorry,” she pulled him close and hugged him. Her small frame had some difficulty supporting him but it didn't matter. She would stay as long as he needed.

“A,” he sniffed and sighed. “A car accident. I should be at the hospital but I can't bear to even move.”

“It is okay. Allow yourself time, even if it's urgent,” She gingerly ran her hand up and down his back. “I'm Angela, what's your name?”

“G-Gabriel. Jack is my husband,” his throat tightened and it hurt as he swallowed. “and,” he was struggling to choke back more tears. “Jesse my son,” that's all he managed to say before more tears and mucus seethed forth in a messy display. His breathing was irregular again as he weep. He withdrew himself from Angela's embrace. He looked at the dark, soggy spot left behind on her cream shirt. “I'm sorry, I ruined your shirt.”

“It's no problem, really,”she reassured whilst assessing the stain, smiling gently.

“Thank you, Angela.”

“Don't mention it, Gabriel,” she hugged him again. Hearing her speak his name struck him with a moment of clarity. He knew that even time could not heal this wound. That it may take him years to feel remotely normal again. That he would continue loving his family for as long as he lived. That though they had departed this world, they still lived on in him. That some days would be much worse than others. That his mourning would not cease, only become dull as time passed. He knew he would resume his weeping soon enough and that his mind would again become turbid.

In the months and years to come he would be reminded of his loved ones. The empty rooms of their living space. The silence of being alone. He would be reminded of Jesse in every playful boy he saw. Eating ice cream or playing ball in the park. He would still feel his husband, holding him in the half vacant bed. And when he would drift off, unconsciousness finally relieving him of grief, he could feel Jack kiss him, feel their whiskers rub against each other. In dreams he could Jesse's hair under his palm as he stroked his son's head. He would listen to their favorite music and find himself only capable of crying. He would speak to them at their favorite places or while preparing dinner. Only to feel his chest grow heavy at the absence of a reply. Nothing could fill the void.

Right now, he had to let the sorrow run its course until it settled down. He had let himself feel the anguish before starting to recover. Right now, someone cared. A radiant stranger that had no obligation to him. It didn't cure him or vanish his grief, but it was almost a small wonder.

She made him feel his misery less, and it was enough.

 


End file.
